


Lies in flawed words and stubborn sounds

by shamelessnameless



Series: Monsters are always hungry, darling [1]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-18
Updated: 2015-09-18
Packaged: 2018-04-21 07:28:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4820549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shamelessnameless/pseuds/shamelessnameless
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It figured that drunk calling Mats from parties was their beginning for a second time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lies in flawed words and stubborn sounds

**Author's Note:**

> Title is stolen from Wallace Stevens. 
> 
> This work talks non-explicitely about past abuse. Some graphic language, maybe? 
> 
> Might not be the end, but it is for now.
> 
> Update: Now part of a series, whose title is shamelessly stolen from Richard Siken.

He knew that it had started after the wedding. No matter what they had said – that Marco understood that it had to be done, that they were not serious with each other anyways, that what they had was without future in the end - it wasn’t the same after Mats had married. They had not planned to break it off, had never really talked about breaking it off, if Marco was being honest, even though marriage should have been a reason to stop cheating on your girlfriend (and well, wife). It wasn’t moral compassion that compelled Marco to stop pushing himself into Mats’ personal space, it wasn’t the thought of ruining something that used to be holy that made him stop seeking Mats’ company during practice or during plane or bus trips. It was not that Mats made him feel that he wanted to stop whatever it was they were, when they were just Marco and Mats and not Marco and Mats, the professional football players. He still came over and tousled Marco’s hair after their post practice shower, he still sent Marco silly little pictures of his dogs (only that there were two dogs now and Marco could not help feeling a bit bitter whenever he laid eyes on the smaller one). Marco didn’t even realize that something had changed at first, until he had sat in the car with Mats after practice, until Mats had started to hum along with the radio, until they had reached Marco’s flat and Marco did not want to invite Mats up, because the wedding ring’s golden shine had caught his attention on a traffic light stop a few minutes ago and he suddenly felt, inexplicably, like curling up on his bed and not doing anything for the rest of the day.

Mats didn’t notice at first – they were busy with practice. They were busy with their preparations for their upcoming season, they were busy with the burning need to leave the last season behind themselves, with not thinking about the humiliation of their games, with trying to leave behind an era. He only started noticing when they went to Japan and then Singapore and Malaysia and Marco could not look him in the eyes, did not sneak into his room at night, tried not to be alone with him.

\--------------------

It had started after Marco managed to loose his place in the national team shortly before Brazil. Marco did not remember much of that night – he remembered the injury quite well and he remembered realizing what the injury meant but then his mind must have shut down for a few hours there, because the next thing he remembered was Mats’ steady presence beside him after they had brought him back to his room and he somehow had started to cry like a baby.  


\--------------------

They had always known about each other in a way. They were friends first and for a long time they were not anything else, even though Marco longed to talk with someone about the loneliness he felt being who he was, doing what he was doing. He knew that Mats wasn’t gay, but bi; knew that Mats was quite in love with Cathy, who did not know that her boyfriend wouldn’t have minded someone someone quite different in his bed.

\--------------------

It had started after the game against Armenia with Mats’ hand in his hair, Mats’ voice in his ear telling him to breath, Mats’ warmth beside him while he tried to sleep.

\--------------------

“I need to talk with you,” said Mats after they had returned to Dortmund, after they had had their first three wins, after Marco finally felt that he could breath again without fearing that the next tackle would take him out of action for weeks or months. Marco asked “right now?” in a hushed tone, because they were in the locker room after practice; Papa was shouting something at Auba, who was shouting something at Wiggle (Marco did feel bad for the kid, but the name had stuck) and this was not the kind of discussion they usually had anywhere near the BVB grounds. Mats rolled his eyes at him. “At my place.”

Marco had known that they were not going to not talk about it (but a man could have his hopes). If anything Mats was his captain and while the this new thing between them had not impacted their game at all, Marco had known that Mats was not someone to let things fester. Mats was direct and talked things out while Marco lacked the words to express himself, had always lacked them, and therefore tried to not confront people whenever he felt bothered or hurt or, for the matter, happy. 

They drove in silence. Mats’ wedding ring glittered in the light again. Marco was sure that Cathy would not be home, was most likely not even in the city, but for some reason he would have preferred to drive to his place, where there were no other things than the ones Marco himself owned. 

“Do you want something to drink?” asked Mats after Marco had sat down in the living room and tried quite hard to not fiddle with the strings of his BVB hoodie. He shook his head. Mats studied him for a second, then sighed and went and got himself a beer. 

“Alright” he said when he came back “now tell me”.

What was there to tell, really? Marco had always found Mats attractive, had always liked his personality and his looks, had gotten a kink out of their height and weight difference, but they had known from the very start that it would not go somewhere, that Mats was in a very public relationship with a very beautiful woman. 

Marco shrugged. Mats sighed again and then plopped down on the couch right next to Marco and tugged him closer with an arm around his shoulders. Marco would have been lying if he said that the touch was unwelcome but somehow it felt even more impossible to start talking. 

\--------------------

Mats felt down after Marco had left his place. He had known that it would be hard to get Marco to talk, knew how hard it was for Marco to talk about his feelings no matter if they were positive or negative but for a time he had been one of the few people that Marco felt safe enough to let down his guard with (and it hurt so much to know that his was not true anymore). 

Mats had known that they were cheating themselves, stealing time and touch and comfort from each other, that not being honest about what they wanted would kill them in the end. Mats had wanted to have a different kind of relationship, however impossible it was in certain aspects, especially regarding their public life. There was a certain way he wanted to touch Marco and it was nothing if not gentle; there was a part of Mats that had always wanted to keep Marco overnight, that felt protective of Marco, that could not stand seeing Marco upset or sad, that hadn’t wanted to go through with the wedding when he had in fact cheated on his wife for close to three years now. Mats had known that he had been in love with Marco for almost the same duration.

They had kissed after Marco had been ruled out of the world cup, after Mats had managed to get him to bed, after Mats had allowed Marco to curl up next to him, after Mats had carefully stroked back the hair falling in Marco’s eyes again and again, after he had gotten him some more ice for his injury. Marco’s breathing had been labored and Mats had known that he was trying hard not to cry, that he was trying hard to tell himself that there were other world cups. He had kissed him unhurriedly, had given Marco time to pull back, but Marco had made a broken sound and kissed him back harder. Mats did not say a word about the taste of blood in Marco’s mouth, that he knew came from biting his cheeks raw in pain. Mats had tried to calm down Marco’s panic that he felt in his touch and kiss. He ended the kiss with a look at Marco’s closed eyes, observed the way Marco had not looked at him but curled himself silently closer towards Mats. He had held him closer, petting his hair and watched him fall asleep.

Sometimes Mats would ask himself why he could not break it off with Cathy when the love he felt for Marco was a thousand times deeper than the love he felt for Cathy; when he felt lost without the companionship of Marco; when he found Marco’s shyness in bed that was very much like Cathy’s shyness, cute and endearing while Cathy’s felt like sex was not worth the effort at all. He told himself that it was society’s expectation of who he had to be, who he had to be, but he knew that the real reason was another one. 

They didn’t really talk during the world cup. Mats knew that Marco was hurt, that Marco was trying to not follow the team all that closely and he knew Marco well enough that nothing would get him to open up to Mats, if Mats wasn’t able to see his face, read his body language. Mats sent a few texts, a few funny pictures, asked about Marco’s health from time to time, but he didn’t think about it much, because he knew that the kiss had been born out of the need to comfort Marco and not out of Marco’s genuine wish to kiss Mats or be kissed by him.

Mats had known that Marco was gay ever since they had met each other for the first time. Maybe it was the fact that Mats was not all that straight himself but he had always known and he knew that Marco knew about his own preferences as well. But he had only started to find out that Marco was not at all that ok with his sexuality after he started playing for BVB. 

They didn’t talk about it of course. Mats knew other gay players, but he had never talked with them either. There was a sense of self-preservation there, but also the simple fact that Mats wouldn’t have known what to talk about – their situation sucked and it sucked more for some players than for others. 

If someone had asked Mats before he had gotten to know Marco in a more intimate way, he would have guessed that it sucked less for Marco. There was Marcel, who Mats believed to be Marco’s boyfriend for a long time. There was the fact that Marco was good-looking and fun to be around with and a relaxed person outside of training. It took Mats some time to notice how much of Marco’s easy to be around personality was a strained effort to keep people from getting to know him better, how Marco never shared something personal unless forced to do so. How he seemed lost and unsure whenever they went out and he thought no one was watching him.

It wasn’t an easy thing to reconcile for Mats. The image he had of Marco, the image everyone had of Marco seemed to be a farce and Mats didn’t get it. There was always a risk of exposure but the risk did not seem to be that great for Marco. There were no questions yet as to why he hadn’t had a girlfriend in a long time. It made no sense.

He tried to talk about it with Marco once, because he was nothing if not attentive. They were getting along fine and Mats thought that Marco genuinely liked him, liked his company and the conversations they had. 

It did not go well. 

“What are you saying” said Marco and his tone sounded strange, too calm, too careless. Mats could see that something was wrong – Marco was fiddling with his sleeves and he had started to sweat almost immediately after Mats had started the conversation. “I’m not doing anything, so I can’t be doing anything wrong?” said Marco next and the question and the hesitant tone with which Marco asked threw Mats, because this was not the implication he had wanted to give, this was not what he had had in mind when he had wanted to offer some support or conversation. “Then I don’t know what you are talking about” said Marco and it was clearly a lie and when Mats tried to say that he felt that Marco was just unhappy a lot of the time all Marco did was shrug his shoulder and say “Nobody is happy all the time”.

Mats kept thinking about their talk, but the only conclusion he could draw was that Marcel was probably not the boyfriend after all.

\--------------------

Marco had been nervous before meeting Mats after the world cup. 

He had written a group message to the whole team, had thanked Mario right away (and then stored the image of his empty shirt where Marco had supposed to be in the deepest parts of his memory), had not talked about his disappointment that still weighed heavily on him with anyone (though he wanted to so badly, felt choked with the need of having someone understand, but he kept telling himself that he did not talk about his problems, that he did not see the point, that most people lost their patience when he was desperately searching for words, that he as a private person, that he didn’t need advice or help). 

Mats had shown up on this doorstop a few days after he had returned to Dortmund and decided to ignore all of Marco’s reassurances. He did not stop asking and eventually Marco talked a bit about what he had been doing during the last month, how he had felt and Mats simply let him talk and gave him water for his parched throat and stroked his arm. 

Marco blamed his inability to shut his mouth once he started talking on the kiss (and tried to forget his hitching voice, his labored breathing while he tried not to cry and Mats simply being there, Mats simply coming a bit closer, Mats simply continuing to stroke his arm). 

As far as kisses go, the ones they had shared before the world cup had not been something special at all. Marco knew that objectively but it was kind of hard telling himself that they had meant nothing if they were only the second kisses you ever got from someone (and firsts if you counted if Marco wanted to be kissed or not). 

Marco’s first kiss had been by the guy that Marco ended up having sex with about two weeks later and who continued to harass him for two more months. Marco was 15, the guy (Sebastian, whispered his treacherous brain) was 23 (this should have been your first clue, whispered his treacherous brain, you should have been more careful, someone as stupid as you deserved to have that happen) and the older brother of one of Marco’s teammates. 

The guy left a few scars. Marco didn’t tell anyone. Didn’t tell anyone about the things that were done to him, the things that were said to him – 

(“I saw you and knew you like it up the ass.”)  
(“Your ugly crooked mouth is only good for one thing.”)  
(“I’ll make you feel good, I swear.”)  
(“You sound like a bitch in heat.”)

\- didn’t tell anyone that he did not know how to love a man when his first and so far only experience was the one he had had. Didn’t tell anyone that he longed desperately for something real, for a man to build up something real, for a man to have sex with that did not leave you wrung out and dirty afterwards, for a man to have the patience to listen to Marco. Didn’t tell anyone that he laid on his bed on the days when it got really, really bad, that he tried to hug himself to sleep. He wanted to tell Mats. 

Marco had come to terms with the fact that the only sex he had ever had was not entirely the way sex should ever go. He had started to experiment with himself a few years earlier, once he stopped feeling repulsed by the mere thought of enjoying his body and he was quite sure that if done correctly anal sex was not supposed to hurt the way it had hurt him., that it was supposed to be enjoyable for both, that there was not something inherent bad with wanting to bottom. He knew that he was not supposed to kiss a guy and feel ugly and unloved and dirty while kissing him. He looked in the mirror and worried that people would look at him and know. He decided not to try his luck by ever trying to find someone who he could like kissing. 

They didn’t kiss again after the world cup, even though a part of Marco wanted to (desperately). But Mats listened a lot more and asked a lot more questions and he was over all the time cooking for Marco and petting Marco’s hair and it felt an awful lot like dating. 

The season started. Mats became captain. Marco became injured. 

He lost himself again for a while after Paderborn. 

Their season had been wretched. Marco had not felt fine for weeks, playing badly, feeling sick, feeling worthless, feeling helpless. He knew that a lot of the guys shared the same feelings, he knew that Mats was taking being a captain much harder than anticipated but it did nothing to soothe Marco. He had been injured, injured again and again and now injured again and he felt strained, stretched too thin. He had to go to the hospital and Marcel picked him up the next day, promising booze and girls and Marco felt so close to crying that it took everything he had to not break down right there in the car. What he wanted was to not feel like this; what he wanted was the comfort Mats had given him after the game against Armenia. What he did not want was a best friend, who Marco let on on purpose, someone Marco had told lies about pretty much every aspect of his life, someone that Marco liked but with whom he mostly hung out because his party boy image was something Marco believed to profit from (in terms of appearing straight. Marcel had no clue and continued to pick up girls for him and Marco continued to go home alone at the end of the night with a sick sunken feeling in the pit of his stomach). 

Mats hadn’t been part of the team, didn’t drive to Paderborn. Marco knew that he was sick and he was angry at him nonetheless, because Mats was supposed to be there, Mats was supposed to hug Marco close and pet him and maybe kiss him again and he was supposed to look at him with this stupid beautiful eyes and Marco missed him even though there was nothing to miss, because Mats was still his friend, but Marco wanted more, he wanted –

“What’s wrong with you?” said Marcel and Marco blinked and realized that he had agreed to go out after all, to forget everything with the help of a few beers and they had ended up in some fancy club and Marco had had too much to drink, considering he was supposed to not drink at all and later on he would blame it on the mix of meds and alcohol, but at that moment he didn’t care, because all he wanted was to feel less miserable.  
And that was how he ended up calling Mats. Marcel drove him home, frowning the whole time. Mats came over. Mats hugged him and Mats kissed him and in the morning he kissed him again and made him breakfast and watched some TV shows while cuddling Marco on the bed and when Marco felt cold he got up and got him another sweater. And it was great and perfect and Marco was in love (though he didn’t know at that time, though he kept telling himself that love was not something that life was planning for him, that he deserved to have). 

Mats left eventually. Marco had felt better with him and without him he felt pretty bitter pretty soon. He was fooling himself. There was nothing Mats was seeing in him, nothing to be seen. 

He thought about calling but he did not know what to say. Mats didn’t call him either that day nor on the next day and Marco did only get up twice to pee and then proceeded to lie in bed with a heavy heart and an aching body. 

Mats came over the day after that and didn’t ask questions about Marco’s state but he made him food again and rubbed his back and kissed him some more.

It became routine. During the weeks that Marco had to rest as much as possible Mats came over at least every second day and the continued to make out and not talk about anything until Marco felt better and Mats probably decided to not spare him a talk, because he was Mats and he never was silent about things that he felt needed to be talked through.

So they talked.

\--------------------

Mats asked himself a lot what would have happened if he hadn’t insisted on defining what they were early on.

He could tell that Marco was a lot more inexperienced than he had thought. He had known by then that Marco almost never asked for anything, however small. The call he had received from Marco after Paderborn was most likely the first time that he had asked anything of Mats and they had known in each other for years by then. And even though Mats could practically hear the pain and the exhaustion Marco must have felt and even though he knew that Marco was drunk and on meds, Marco managed to find a way to diminish every sentence he said. Mats knew that he was asking for company, that he was asking to not be left alone for the night, that he was asking to be picked up from the party (and he was going to tear Marcel a new one once he saw him again, because he was also a captain and a professional athlete and he knew that a body that was as exhausted as Marco’s should have not been brought to a club in the fucking first place), that he was asking to be allowed to not care for a while, that he was asking for someone to feel his pain without pitying him but at the same time he was not asking for anything at all. 

Mats drove over. 

It was surprisingly easy. 

Of course, Mats welcomed the opportunity to kiss another man without having to fear anything. He had always found Marco attractive and if anyone had asked he would have expected Marco to be good in bed (not that he gave it any thought). He liked Marco and he liked taking care of Marco and he liked kissing Marco and he spent an absurd amount of time researching recipes, because he had observed that Marco was a fussy eater whenever he was feeling down or sick or when he was on meds.  
There were things he hadn’t expected. 

One was the fact that Marco seemed to not know what to do with his hands, that he never tried to take the kissing further, that he never looked Mats in the eyes when he got flustered, that he didn’t stop his self-censoring even when they started to take things further. 

(It would become an old argument – “I just want you to feel safe enough to be yourself.” – “This is who I am.”)

Mats regretted not doing things differently. 

They talked. Mats had been happy before their talk, because he felt happy with Marco and he felt as if they were going somewhere together and Marco seemed to trust him a lot more and Mats liked him and he kind of wanted Marco to know how much he liked him. Mats was thinking about breaking things off with Cathy and to just go with it, because every little thing Marco did was charming him and maybe he was going crazy, because they had played alongside for two years and Mats had never contemplated the possibility of them being in a relationship but now he wanted them to be in one. Mats wanted to be happy and during the last few months happiness somehow had started to equal Marco’s head on his shoulder when they slept, Marco’s laughter when he beat Mats in Fifa, Marco nodding with closed eyes whenever Mats asked if this was okay, Marco clearly wanting Mats to touch him and asking for it with everything but words.

They talked and it all went to hell, because Mats had been excited and when Marco could not match his excitement Mats became too impatient and Marco did not know what to say and he probably felt helpless and scared because looking back Mats knew that he had shared Mats’ feelings but was most likely overwhelmed and when Mats left after having somehow agreed to keep spending time with each other but only as friends with benefits and never anything more, he felt hollow and sad and he wanted to turn around and wrap his arms around Marco and try again to tell him what he really wanted. 

Of course, back when they talked, Mats had not yet matured in his opinion of what had happened between them. It was a hard thing to accept that he had wanted to give Marco more security because he felt as if this was something Marco needed (and he needed it for himself as well) and had only succeeded in making Marco feel inadequate. It was a hard thing to accept that Marco had shown him in a million little ways that his feelings were reciprocated and that he had to go and ignore them because he wanted Marco to use his words. 

It was a hard thing to accept that he had somehow broken Marco’s trust in him and in them. 

Mats thought it was fitting that they had only had sex after their talk. 

He suspected of course; suspected all kinds of things that would explain why Marco didn’t enjoy sex, why Marco was clearly scared of initiating sex, why Marco seemed unsure of himself in every sexual situation. He was fine with kissing and he was fine with Mats giving him blowjobs and he was fine with jerking Mats off and he obviously enjoyed all those things, because Mats wouldn’t have done them with him otherwise, but it was only after Marco seemed to believe that the thing they had was going to end soon anyways (and he was right of course, because Cathy wanted to get married and Mats did not see any reason to not marry the person he loved, even if he loved her a lot less) that he wanted to have sex with Mats (and it broke Mats heart that he had stopped trusting in their ability to wait with each other for the right moment).

Mats refused. It became a thing. They talked about it and Marco admitted that he was pretty much a virgin (he was coming from a party with Marcel and was tipsy and giggled at Mats the way he had done before and Mats wanted to kiss him stupid and apologize for the rest of his life. Wanted them to have a rest of their lives together for him to apologize) which took away a lot of the tension and apprehension. 

They had sex for the first time sometime in February. Mats bottomed and talked Marco through and got away with telling Marco how beautiful he was, how perfect he was doing, until Marco finally, finally stopped controlling every sound that left his mouth. Marco finally found Mats’ lips and pressed his own against them desperately while his orgasm made him shake and cling to Mats and something changed between them and they continued to have a lot of sex right until Mats married Cathy in the mid of June and Marco ended their thing. 

(And Mats regretted – because even though it was supposed to not be serious it had become a lot more serious and Marco told him a few things and when Mats asked a few careful questions he answered them truthfully and Marco clearly enjoyed sex the more they did it and he clearly let go of a few things that had seemed to bother him before and Mats didn’t want it to end). 

\--------------------

Marco felt lost. His professional life was going in a much better direction than last season, broken toe notwithstanding, but his personal life had taken a downturn. He missed Mats and he missed sex with Mats and he missed waking up with Mats and Mats cooking for them and he missed wearing Mats hoodies and it was not made better by the fact that he had to see Mats every day. 

And he couldn’t talk with anyone. 

He was used to it of course – he stopped being able to tell anyone what was going on in his life when he met the guy. But he longed, had always longed to talk with someone and to be understood, had longed for someone to notice what was going on when he was 15, longed to tell someone that the love of his life had married another person, that he had missed his chance (because it had been a chance – right?). 

Longed to tell someone about all the missing and how his heart still beat faster whenever he laid eyes on Mats and how he had reached a point where he thought that he could talk with Mats about the guy (and at the same didn’t care about talking about the guy for the first time in his life, because he hadn’t been in his mind all that often). 

Marco knew that while Mats wasn’t unhappy with his marriage he was a lot less happy than he could have been and the thought of Mats settling for something less made him ache. The thought of Mats thinking of Marco as a person more worthy to settle with than Cathy made him ache for a different reason and he started to finally see someone for this self-confidence then, because a tiny part of him still hoped (and it helped him so much to talk to someone professionally that he kicked himself for being to afraid to start it years ago). 

Marco was moping and at some point Marcel decided that it was enough (after having asked Marco again and again what was going on and Marco not knowing where to start explaining) and got him out of the house and into a club and Marco got wasted and sad and he locked himself into a stall and called Mats.

\--------------------

It figured that drunk calling Mats from parties was their beginning for a second time. 

\--------------------

Mats came and picked him up. He had a conversation with Marco’s drunk self and Marco’s drunk self told him about the guy and the therapy and how much he loved Mats, because Marco’s drunk self had no self-preservation instincts, fuck. 

Mats kissed him and calmed him down and tucked him into bed and crawled into bed with him once Marco started to feel like a living person again the next day and they had a second talk.

\--------------------

It also figured that they only managed to be honest with themselves after their situation had gotten a thousand times more complicated (and god, Mats couldn’t stop asking himself why he had to go ahead and marry her, when he was still hoping to work things out with Marco and he had ruined it and he hated himself for it). 

\--------------------

Honesty brought them back to a place where they could be friends. Honesty brought them back to a place where they were more than friends after Mats had had a little too much wine and told Marco that he was gorgeous and Marco kissed him. Mats kissed back.

They picked up where they had left. Mats had a little less time. Marco had a lot of doubts and he knew that Mats was sharing most of them. But somehow they both believed that it would work out.

\--------------------

It didn't.


End file.
